If It Makes You Happy
by Azkabella
Summary: A collection of Eleven/Clara one-shots that exist in a universe where the Doctor and Clara have a more intimate relationship aboard the TARDIS (smut warning.)
1. Together

She fell against his chest with a wheezing sigh, swallowing hard before expelling heavy breaths against his neck. The Doctor cradled her to his chest and stared blindly at the ceiling as he struggled to return his own breathing to normal. When he felt more like a man and less like an amorphous puddle of limbs, he turned his lips to the side of her head and kissed her hair.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered reverently, lips lingering against the side of her head. Clara chuckled softly and heaved an exhausted sigh against his chest. "You _are_," he reiterated, as if her silence had contradicted him. He began stroking her hair away from her face. "I love watching your face…"

Grinning, Clara leaned back against his shoulder so she could meet his eyes. This was the closest to pillow talk she'd ever managed with her usually shy and skittish Doctor. No matter what they did in the bedroom, he would always clam up at the mere mention of touching each other, even whenever they were alone. "Yeah?" she prompted.

"Mm-hmm," he replied lazily, hand still stroking her hair.

She smiled lightly with disappointment when he didn't elaborate further. Glancing towards the wall behind the headboard, she added softly, "I hope we weren't too loud. Don't want the other guests to know what we're up to."

The Doctor's fingers trailed down the slope of her neck and along the lines of her collarbone, his gaze following the motion. "It is a pity. I rather like the sounds you make."

"Do you?" she replied with a pleased smile. "Even at the risk of traumatising the sweet little family in the room next door?"

"I like to know that I'm making you happy," he replied, his voice remaining soft as his fingertips glided along the side of her breast. Clara suppressed a shiver with difficulty.

"So it's about boosting your own ego?" she teased.

He chuckled softly. "Maybe it's all about you. Have you ever considered that?" He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Maybe your happiness is all I want."

She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully and shook her head. "Nah. I'm pretty sure you're more fond of your own 'happiness.'"

He chuckled again and hugged her tightly to him, rolling them both on their sides. Clara hugged him back as he pressed his grinning lips into her neck and breathed deeply. For a long time they lay there in silence as they savoured the feeling of being in each other's arms.

"I think this is the first place you've ever taken me where there hasn't been some sort of near-death experience waiting around the corner," Clara observed after a lengthy silence. Her hand was stroking his hair.

The Doctor lifted his head and stared at her in disbelief. "Did you _have_ to jinx it? Honestly, Clara…"

* * *

Hours later the hotel was evacuated when a rebel invasion took the city. "What are they rebelling against?" Clara shouted over the sound of gunfire and explosions.

Their backs were pressed against a wall of rubble that served as a barricade to the storm of firing lasers behind them. The Doctor met her eyes and shrugged, shouting, "Search me! I thought this was a peaceful planet. A relative utopia!"

Clara snorted. "_You_ of all people should know that no such thing exists."

"I did say _relative,_ didn't I?" he retorted before throwing himself over her just as another explosion knocked debris in their direction.

* * *

They found their way back to the TARDIS after the crisis was resolved. They both showered, separately, and Clara moaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure as the hot water rinsed the dirt and grime from her sore and beaten body. She had made it out without any injuries, save for a large bruise above her left knee. She showed it to the Doctor when he arrived in her doorway after her shower, half dressed in his trousers and shirt, bow tie hanging loosely from his open collar. His hair was still damp.

"Everything alright?" he asked, concern etched on his features.

Clara hugged the fluffy white towel to her body and sat at the foot of her bed. "More or less. Got a nasty bruise on my knee, though."

She glanced down at the purple and blue spot the size of a large fist on the side of her knee. Slowly, the Doctor made his way over to the edge of her bed and knelt in front of her, his hands resting delicately on her knees as he examined the bruise. "It looks painful."

"Smarts a bit, yeah."

Smiling, he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on the edge of the bruise, careful not to hurt her. He didn't rise up immediately afterward, but instead laid his head in her lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. He heaved a tired sigh. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked, stroking his hair.

"For promising you a nice holiday and landing you in the middle of a rebellion."

She chuckled lightly. "That's alright, Doctor. I'm pretty used to it by now."

He lifted his head and gripped the mattress on either side of her hips. "You do know I want the best for you, right? All this travelling, all the running and the adventure… None of it matters if you're not happy."

Clara placed her hands on either side of his face and smiled fondly at him. "You make me happy, Doctor," she assured him before leaning down to kiss him sweetly. Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. "You make me very, _very_ happy."

His breath shook at the throaty tone of her voice and she kissed him again, this time slipping her tongue past his lips to leisurely stroke his. The Doctor slid his hands up her sides and leaned into her knees, pressing painfully into her bruise.

"_Ow_," Clara gasped as she pulled away from his lips.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

She couldn't help but laugh at the sweetness in his tone. "It's OK. Come here."

She gripped his collar with one hand and pressed her other against his side, tugging him up as she lay back on the bed, his body settling over hers, hips pressing between her legs. They kissed each other slowly and delicately, lips tugging each other as they stroked the other's face, neck, and sides with loving hands.

Clara could feel him growing hard against her thigh and she kissed him with rising passion. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly against his frame as she whimpered softly against his lips. Their hips began to roll and buck against each other, and he peeled the towel from her body so he could lower his lips to her breasts, making her hum and sigh as he nipped and sucked at her sensitive flesh. She dug her fingers against his scalp and bit her lower lip as he moaned against her skin.

"You know," she began breathily. "I rather like the noises _you_ make too."

He grinned up at her, chin resting between her breasts. "Oh really?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, grinning.

Quickly, he sat back on his knees and started unbuttoning his shirt. Clara idly wondered why he'd even bothered putting it on after his shower, or why they even bothered showering separately. She supposed they were both due some time apart so they could decompress on their own, but alone time was the farthest thing from her mind when she sat up and started unfastening his trousers, helping the undressing process along.

"So helpful," he teased with a grin as he peeled his shirt back and tossed it over the edge of the bed.

"More like impatient."

He stood from the bed and Clara laid back on her elbows as she watched him lower his pants and trousers to the floor. Her eyes fell to his blossoming erection and she bit her lip, knees swinging back and forth coquettishly as she admired him. He grinned at her obvious appraisal of him and started to move forward to rejoin her on the bed.

"Wait," she said, sitting up and lowering her feet to the floor.

His eyes glazed over as she placed her hands on his lips and then leaned forward to kiss the soft skin at his hipbone. His belly rose and fell sharply with controlled breaths until her lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. He released a guttural moan that encouraged her to take him into her mouth as fully as she could, her hands sliding up the backs of his thighs as she flatted her tongue against him.

His hands dug into her hair as she moved along his shaft, head bobbing rhythmically as he groaned and choked out her name. She caressed his backside with one hand and gripped his balls with the other, all the while sucking firmly on his cock with her eyes fixed on his.

The Doctor tugged gently on her hair, urging her to stand, and then bent forward to kiss her with sloppy eagerness. Clara chuckled against his lips until the firm motions of his tongue made her grip his shoulders and moan wantonly. He pulled away and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her around so that she was facing the bed, his erection bowed against the small of her back as wrapped his arms around her.

"Is this OK?" he asked between heavy breaths, his hand stroking her belly as he pushed his body into hers hesitantly, like he wanted to bend her over the edge of the bed.

Clara shuddered, her voice completely leaving her. "Uh-huh."

He gently pushed her onto the bed and she gripped the sheets, her muscles tensing in anticipation of his body falling onto hers. She laughed when instead his hands landed on her shoulders, palms moving down the curves of her back, her waist, and her hips until they reached her backside. He slid his hands up and down her supple flesh, gripping her gently as he admired her.

"Sometimes I think you're the most beautiful thing the universe has ever created," he muttered without thinking.

Clara wanted to laugh it off as something a man said whenever he's got a woman naked in bed, but instead she buried her blushing face in the duvet and sighed. He pressed a fist into the mattress next to her shoulder while parting her thighs with the other and she held her breath. He pressed himself against her but didn't push in. Instead, he lowered his upper body against hers, supporting his weight on his elbow as he pushed her hair away from her neck so he could kiss her there. He then whispered her name before pushing into her, and Clara bit her lips to keep from crying out as her body spread around him. It always hurt a little at first, but not in a bad way, and he always waited until he knew she was ready to start moving.

"Oh," she gasped when he pulled back and then pushed into her a second time, her body tight and accommodating. The Doctor kissed her shoulder, the arm he wasn't using for balance wrapping around her shoulders as he rolled his hips against her with fluid motions.

"Look up," he breathed into her ear. "I want to see you."

Perplexed, Clara lifted her head from the bed to catch sight of herself in the wardrobe mirror across from her. She must have left the door open before they'd last left the TARDIS.

His pace increased but remained steady, a deep moan issuing from his chest as he watched her eyes slam shut and her lips part around her own gasps and guttural moans. He watched her face for a long time as he continued to pump inside of her, completely taken by the pink of her cheeks and the darkness of her eyes whenever they opened to meet his in the reflection of the mirror.

She cried out when he slid his other hand between her belly and the sheets, fingers snaking down between her legs where he stroked her confidently. "That's it," he whispered against her neck, thrusting wildly into her as he neared his own climax. "That's it, Clara. Come for me… I want to make you…" He paused, a moan escaping through gritted teeth. "I want to make you feel good."

A strangled laugh escaped her throat and she reached for the hand attached to the arm around her shoulders, her fingers gripping tightly to his as she squirmed beneath him. He was starting to lose control.

"That's it, Clara," he muttered, teeth nipping her neck gently as his breath caught in his throat. "Oh, that's it. It's you and me. Running… together, always together… You and me, Clara… That's it… That's it…"

He stroked her with more urgency, earning sharp, keening moans from her that preceded her body quaking violently beneath his, a muttered oath escaping her lips before he cried out against her neck and spilled into her.

His body sank heavily against hers. He wasn't fully aware that he was crushing her until she shifted weakly beneath him.

"Sorry," he said, pressing his elbows into the bed so he could alleviate some of the weight pressing into her.

Clara replied with a throaty chuckle. "Don't you _dare_ apologize. Ever. For anything. Not after that…"

He laughed against her shoulder. "Listen to her, spouting nonsense."

They both laughed softly as their breathing slowed to a more normal rate. Clara reached an arm back behind her and stroked the back of his head while he nuzzled her neck, his lips pressing softly against her salty skin.

"I like it when you talk to me," she said.

He was certain she could feel his grin against the curve of her neck. "Says the woman who frequently tells me off for babbling."

"Rambling without end, more like," she corrected dryly. Her fingertips caressed his scalp in a way that made him close his eyes and bury his face against her neck with a light moan. "But when you say things like that… That's…" She swallowed hard. "Really nice."

"Is it?"

"Mm-hmm."

He lifted his head and buried his fingers in her silky hair, gently encouraging her to turn her face towards his. She smiled when she met his eyes and he covered her lips with his in a kiss that betrayed the depth of his adoration for her.

"Whatever makes you happy," he said.

Clara hummed with delight, her lips spread into a wide grin. "You know what would make me happy?"

"What's that?"

"_Food_."

The Doctor laughed softly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "You've worked up quite an appetite, haven't you?"

She snorted as he rose from the bed, practically having to peel his body from hers. "There goes your ego again."

She rolled onto her back and he bent forward, hands slipping under her arms so he could lift her from the bed. Clara squealed with delight as he gave her a quick twirl before lowering her back down to the ground. "What'll it be?" he asked, hands lowering to her waist as hers looped around his neck. "Dinner in Paris? Brunch at the still unnamed moon of Allora? It's always daytime there, you know. They're only ever serve breakfast. _Excellent_waffles."

Grinning, Clara shook her head. "Whatever you'd like."

"_You're_ the one who's hungry," he reminded her, poking her playfully in the side.

"Yeah, but I like making you happy, too."

An earnest smile spread across his face, the sort that made him look like a young boy. "Is that so?"

Clara pulled him towards her, standing on her tiptoes, and nodded as she pressed her lips to his. "That's so."


	2. Distractions

She's typing furiously when she hears the TARDIS materialise on the lawn outside her flat. Clara glances at the time on her laptop and growls with frustration. She needs to get this done now or it won't get done at all—and no bow tie-wearing man child with a time machine will convince her otherwise.

He knocks before using his sonic to enter her flat. He's been letting himself in for a while now, and although she teased him at first, he knows she doesn't mind. The boundaries they had once drawn between themselves have blurred over time, some of them in more welcome ways than others.

His fingers rap against the doorframe and she casts a glance over her shoulder to find him standing in the doorway, body tense with his usual manic energy. He's ready to go. "I'm not ready."

He practically deflates. "How much longer?"

"Dunno. Half an hour? Maybe more?"

"But I got us a reservation at the Hyperion Restaurant on the French colony in the Sector 12 Galaxy."

Clara's fingers freeze on the keyboard as she frowns with amusement before resuming their steady pace. "Reservations? Aren't you notoriously against those? Something about preferring spontaneity and a flexible schedule?"

He frowns lightly at her. "Yes, well… It's a special occasion."

"Is it?" she asks, still typing away with her back to him. When he doesn't respond, she tears her eyes from her computer and turns in her chair, arm draping over the back as she looks up at him.

He's trying not to pout. "It's our anniversary."

"Our what?"

"Well, not technically an anniversary. It hasn't been a year, not even for me – I don't think. It's sort of tricky to say, since the amount of time we spend apart isn't always proportionate, but…"

As he babbles, a slow smile spreads across her face. Clara notes the date. "It's the second."

He exhales softly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Yes."

"Three months since we first…"

He swallows and nods. "Yes."

She beams at him. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"Of course I remembered."

Clara lowers her gaze to the floor. "I can't believe I forgot. Hang on." She glances up at him. "We didn't celebrate our one month or two month anniversaries. What's so special about three?"

He pales for a moment. "I like threes. Three is a magical number."

Her lips curl into a grin. "You've only just now realised how long it's been, haven't you?"

"No," he says crossly, meaning the answer is definitely yes. He sighs. "Do you not want to go?"

"What? No, of course I do! I just…" She grimaces apologetically. "I need to get this done."

"Why do I always have to remind you we've got a time machine?"

"It's not a matter of time. It's being in the right mindset. If I don't finish this now, then all my focus and concentration will be lost and I won't be able to do a proper job." She smiles. "Once I finish, we can go. I don't need to remind you we've got a time machine, do I?"

She turns back to her laptop with a grin, noting how he'd said "_we've_ got a time machine" and how she'd chosen to echo it. The Doctor walks up behind her and places his hands on the back of her chair, leaning forward so he can look at what she's doing.

"You spelled 'knowledgeable' incorrectly."

"No, I didn't. I've got spellcheck."

"There shouldn't be an e."

Clara snorts. "How many spelling bees have you won, Doctor?"

"Five. How many have _you_ won?"

"Six," she lies with an arrogant grin, and he scoffs with annoyance. She'd only ever won three, but he didn't need to know that. "Besides, English isn't your first language. It's natural you should muck it up a bit."

He grunts with annoyance. "I'll… muck you up a bit."

Clara giggles. "I look forward to it."

He breathes a little laugh, cheeks flushing pink even as he wraps his arms around her from behind and plants a kiss on top of her head. "I adore you."

Her heart flutters in her chest. He says that a lot, _I adore you_, as if he's trying to avoid that other word altogether. She would be worried about why if she didn't know him as well as she did, or if she didn't notice that she has also been avoiding the word. Neither wants to be the first to say it. They both feel it.

"Down, boy," she says with a nervous laugh when he bends his head forward and kisses her neck, his hands falling to her thighs. "The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can celebrate."

"Is this distracting?" he asks in a far too innocent tone as one hand slides up her belly to cup her breast.

Clara freezes, sighing. "Doctor."

"Hmm?"

"Remove the hands."

Pouting audibly, he stands up with a muttered, "Yes, dear," that causes her to blush more than his eager hands had. She hears him pacing back and forth behind her and wonders if she should suggest a cold shower or something. He's acting like a scavenger bird, circling around in the air waiting to feed. Clara swallows hard and tries to focus back on the task at hand, which is her monthly report due to the school administration.

She's nearing the end of the penultimate paragraph when the Doctor kneels down next to her chair, one arm snaking around her waist while his other hand falls to her knee. "What are you doing?" she asks suspiciously.

"Waiting."

A shiver runs up her spine when he slides his hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch both firm and gentle as his fingers skim across her stockings. Clara squirms a little, a soft breath leaving her lips as she parts her legs. His finger traces along the seam between her legs and she whimpers, her hands falling slack at the keyboard.

"That's not waiting."

He swivels her chair to face him once he's confident he's got her attention, hands gripping her thighs beneath her pencil skirt. He presses a light kiss against her hip. "Forgive me."

She's breathing heavily now, her fingers raking through his hair as he presses another kiss to the crease where her thigh meets her hip, the pressure of his lips electric even through the layers of fabric that separate him from her skin. He slides his hands under her skirt, bunching it up at her hips, and reaches for the waistband of her stockings. He slowly tugs them down, forcing her to lift off the chair so he can slip them past her hips, down her thighs, and then down to a puddle on the floor along with her knickers.

"I just…" He kisses the inside of one knee and then the other, palms leisurely stroking up and down the outsides of her thighs as his lips move against her skin. "Want you. Now."

She swallows hard when she feels herself on the verge of wheezing. His breath is on her, but his lips remain on her thighs, kissing and nipping her delicate skin until his nose brushes against her. His hands are under her skirt, palms flush against her hips, fingertips pressing into her backside. Clara wonders how he can be so impatient to have her and still take so bloody long to—

"Oh god," she breathes when his lips envelop her, tongue whipping forward to brush against her clit. She throws one knee over his shoulder and grips his jacket with biting fingernails while her other hand threads its fingers through his hair. His hands are firm at her hips, keeping her from bucking and thrashing against him as he kisses her delicately, his touch agonisingly gentle.

Clara's head falls back as his tongue swirls around her, her hips rolling against his face as a moan swells inside her chest like a balloon. He's holding back, the pressure he exerts is confident but reserved, and she figures out why when her fingers dig sharply into his shoulder and scalp and she says, "_Please_."

With a strangled moan, he thrusts his tongue forward and tightens his grip on her hips as she starts bucking, her legs scissoring around his shoulders as she gasps and issues soft cries. One of his hands slides around her bum to rest at her tailbone, his touch loving and encouraging as his tongue drives her to ecstasy, his name spilling from her lips as she shudders into him.

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand and smiles at her body draped across her chair, her fingers slipping from his hair and the collar of his coat as her belly rises and falls with heavy breaths.

"That was…" She swallows hard. "Completely uncalled for."

He resists the urge to chuckle. He kisses her knee and she shoots upward, leg falling from his shoulder so she could grip his face with both hands and pull him up to meet her lips for a passionate kiss. She can taste herself on his lips and marvels at how that turns her on more than it could ever disgust her. "Take off your clothes," she demands breathily.

He nods eagerly. "Yes, ma'am."

He whips off his jacket and tosses it to the floor before making quick work of his bow tie, waistcoat, and shirt. Meanwhile Clara pulls her blouse over her head and unzips her skirt, standing so she could drop it down her legs. The Doctor stands once he's removed his pants and trousers, nearly tripping as he removes his feet from the puddled clothing. Clara unhooks her bra and lets it drop to the floor.

The Doctor grins. "Happy Anniversary."

"Shut up."

She silences him with a kiss and he wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the ground. Clara wraps her legs about his waist and he hefts her up so that she's properly situated, the pair smiling at each other before their lips meet with more impassioned kisses that draw moans and sighs from their throats.

The Doctor turns sharply and lowers her down on top of the edge of her desk, to the right of her laptop which is still open, reminding her of what she should be doing. Clara slaps it shut and then spreads her legs wide as he pushes into her, her body slick and ready for him. There's no need to go slowly, to build up to the place where they already are. Clara clings to him as he beats into her, her thighs pressing hard into his hips and her hands clinging to his back and shoulder. He's hunched forward, one hand pressed against the wall behind her while the other grips her hip. His eyes bore into hers, gaze foggy with lust as they breathe heavily in each other's direction.

Eyes remaining on his, she clenches around him and enjoys the deep moan he responds with. "Yes_,_" he mutters, thrusting into her. "Yes."

Even in these moments when they were caught up in a frenzy of lust, she can still see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in his touch. Suddenly her fear is stripped from her and all she wants to do is say it as loud and as much as she possibly can.

"I love you," she says.

A funny sound escapes his throat, but his movements do not falter. Clara lays her head against his chest and hugs him tightly as he continues thrusting into her, his pace increasing. She says the words over and over again in rhythm with his movements, her thighs sliding languidly up and down his sides until he releases a strangled cry against her shoulder and sinks into her with a soft groan.

She almost wants to laugh as she wonders which of them is breathing louder. He removes his hand from the wall and strokes her hair, his other hand clutching her to him as the residual tremors in his body subside. When he pulls back to look at her, she knows what he's thinking, but oddly she's not worried. He pushes her hair from her face and kisses her, pausing to breathe twice before he pulls back and kisses her nose.

"Oh, Clara," he breathes against her forehead.

She closes her eyes. The way he speaks her name is more of a declaration of love than any three words ever could be. She doesn't expect him to repeat those words, but then again she'd never expected him to admit to having feelings for her that were more than friendly.

Then again – he's yet to verbally admit to it. His behaviour would read rather odd if she hadn't gotten the message somewhere along the line… about three months ago, in fact.

She kisses him calmly, unfettered by the deadline that had earlier been pressing in on her or the urgency of her now sated arousal. He slides a hand into her hair and she smiles against his lips, withdrawing her own momentarily before puckering a series of swift kisses against his mouth. He laughs at her playfulness.

"Oh, yeah," he says, turning his head to look at the computer not shut beside them. "I suppose you'll want to finish that before we head out…"

"I could have been finished by now," she reminds him, tapping her finger against the tip of his nose. "But _someone _was too impatient."

His gaze lowers, eyes on her breasts as he grins sheepishly. "You didn't seem to mind too much."

"No, I didn't."

"Should we get going, then?"

Clara bites her lip and loops her arms around his neck, her legs pulling his hips even further into hers. "What's the rush?"

"Reservation."

"Time machine."

He chuckles darkly. "Insatiable woman."

"Says the eager and willing man already growing hard inside me."

He blushes furiously. "_Clara_…"

She smiles with amusement, brushing his hair from his forehead as she watches his face shift from pink to crimson. "You're very silly."

"Am I?"

"Mm-hmm."

He kisses her. "So are you."

"Am I?"

"Mm-hmm."

She kisses him gently and grins against his lips when he cradles her body against his and turns them towards her bed. He slowly lowers them both onto the mattress and immediately starts moving against her, his movements relaxed and almost lazy. She rests her arms along his, palms at his shoulders as she stares into his eyes, breathing softly as she thinks of how much better her life is with him in it. How much richer and fuller and happier.

"Happy Anniversary, Doctor."

He gives a little laugh, a happy one, and reaches up to touch her face. "Happy Anniversary, Clara."


End file.
